My dear friend Tricia turned 40 on Tuesday. At her surprise party, we were supposed to roast/toast her. I wondered, “How do you narrow down to one anecdote when you’ve known someone so long?” I decided you don’t. After all, our friendship spans 19 years, 8 foreign countries, and 4 degrees. That’s much more than a sound byte.

I always wanted to travel across the U.S., and write the modern-day version of Travels with Charley, except my title sidekick would be Tricia, instead of an oversized prize poodle. That journey never happened, but many others have — probably enough to fill a book of my own. So, with apologies to Steinbeck, here’s my roasty toast. Lessons learned through Travels with Tricia (in chronological order):

Spain – it’s ok to pick up boys, but only if you find some for the other guapas.

Portugal – it’s ok to use the fish knife for your butter, as long as you do it with a smile, then can-can down the stairs of a palace with Maureen.

France – it’s ok to use your friend for personal gain, especially in the case of French pastries.

England – it’s ok to drive on the left side of the road. Just remember the golden rule of stick shift driving: The driver may sing but the driver may not dance!

Ireland – it’s ok to pick up hitchhikers, but only if they’re Irish octogenarians on their way home from paying off cattle debts. It is NEVER ok to pick up your Guinness from the bar before the bartender has finished the multi-step pouring process that is distinctly Guinness

Germany – it’s ok to yell at the train conductor, but only if you’re standing on train seats and pointing to your luggage.

Italy – It’s ok to ogle the Italians. Oh, wait, that was me. It’s ok to tell your friend, “I love traveling with you, but damn, Venice is so romantic, I wish I were with a boyfriend.”

The other morning, after a meeting with a great volunteer, I left all happy and content with the world and my lot in it. As I went to put stuff into my messy car trunk, I noticed something was wrong. It took me a second to realize someone had scraped off my registration sticker. Grrr! No longer loving humanity, I thought, “People suck!” The worst part is there is NO way the person could have used the sticker. It came off in chunks. Chunks! I have since decided it was just some punkass. That doesn’t change the situation, but I like screaming “Stupid punkasses suck” more than “People suck.” It’s much more specific. I don’t want to disparage everyone, just the sucky ones.

And how much do I suck? I have a picture of said destroyed registration sticker, but I cannot figure out how to get my ancient digital camera to communicate with my new laptop. Stay tuned for that.

UPDATE: I figured it out! Check out the damage. Derek said I should have cropped myself out of the photo, but I think it’s a weird & fun little distorted self portrait.